The Benghazi Affair: A Parody Novel

by Ward Salud

  “We’re ready for you, Hillary,” the pilot Brian said.

  Hillary breathed in. She wasn’t as good at extemporaneous speech as her husband, but she’ll have to try. “Hello, everyone,” she said. “It’s my honor to stand here before you as your Secretary of State as well as your team leader.” She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. She was so proud of the men and women of the DSS. “We all know why we’re here,” she said. “I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake. I just want to say to everyone here. Whatever happens . . . whatever happens in that cold mountain ahead of us. Always remember, we fight for America.”

  She gulped. On the other hand, her compatriots said nothing, but she could hear their gasps of emotion buried within. “We fight for liberty. We fight for freedom. And not just for our fellow Americans but for all freedom loving people everywhere! Let the light of freedom guide you! Follow that light! Follow that light! May God Bless America!”

  Cheers erupted both from inside Hillary’s own Black Hawk and in her earpiece as well. “HILL-A-RY!” they chanted. “HILL-A-RY! HILL-A-RY!”

  Hillary smiled at her fellow agent’s encouragement, but then, the helicopter suddenly banked, forcing her to grab onto the straps. Her fellow agents cried out as they were pushed forward and then held onto each other or to their seatbelt straps.

  The Black Hawk helicopter listed but soon righted itself, though the rotor blades still sputtered about, the aerial vehicle quickly losing energy. Hillary grabbed onto strap after strap and carefully stepped towards the cockpit of the helicopter.

  Ramirez moved out of the way and let her through only to find both the pilots steering both the cyclic stick and collective lever in each hand tightly as if fighting to keep control of the aerial vehicle. “Report!” she shouted through the din of the sputtering rotor blades.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong!” Brian shouted back. “None of the other Black Hawks are having this problem!”

  Hillary looked past the cockpit windows, and indeed, the other Black Hawks continued on their trajectory, gradually moving ahead of their failing vehicle.

  “Must be mechanical,” Brian added. “It has to be!”

  A sound of metal against rock crashed in the air, and the Black Hawk banked sharply to the right. Hillary once more stumbled forward as she cried out along with everyone else inside.

  “We’re hit!” Brian cried out. “We’re hit!”

  The Black Hawk whirled around, and for a moment, Hillary saw what had happened. The tail of the helicopter must have strafed the side of a mountain and that meant . . .

  They continued to spin in the air even as the helicopter continued to lose altitude.

  “Brace for impact, everyone!” Brian shouted. “We’re going down!”

  •••

  Huma Abedin watched as Hillary’s Black Hawk helicopter vanish over the side of the mountain, a trail of smoke billowing from its tail.

  Her own Black Hawk helicopter continued on its trajectory along with the rest of their fleet.

  Balancing herself and hanging onto the straps, she stepped towards the cockpit. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” the pilot said. Concern marked his face, but he tried to concentrate on flying the helicopter.

  Huma turned back and looked towards the site where her boss's copter went down. Did they crash? Was she still alive? She looked over to her fellow DSS agents, but each of them was also stricken and didn’t know what to do.

  Her earpiece sounded. “We’ll try to find out what happened back there,” Philippe said. “But the mission commences. I repeat, the mission commences.”

  Huma still couldn’t believe what had happened. Panic started to rise from within. She wanted to save them, do something, but she got ahold of herself. Hillary would do the same thing, she thought. The frozen chill of the Himalayas bit into her cheeks. She would want them to continue.

  Pressing her finger to her earpiece, she spoke to her fellow DSS agents. “I’m taking a command of the mission,” she said to them. “Ready your weapons,” she added softly.

  Behind them, they moved farther and farther away from the mountain that hid Hillary’s descent. I hope she’s alright, she thought.

  •••

  Hillary Clinton stirred in the snow. Where was she? she thought, her surroundings a blur until she gave one glance around.

  They had apparently crash landed on the side of a mountain with ice and snow blanketing the landscape including herself. The crashed helicopter sat idle close by, its nose crunching against the snow and its tail sticking out into the air as a plume of black smoke rose into the sky. The bodies of her fellow DSS agents lay sprawled around the site, all inert and seemingly lifeless.

  Hillary rose herself up, disturbing the snow, and she noticed something for the first time. It was stained with blood.

  Blood dripped down to the snow, and pressing her hand to her forehead, she felt blood there.

  The wind howled around her, but she ignored everything else. Her head ached and her body screamed in pain, but she picked herself up somehow. She had to find out if any of them were still alive. With whatever remained of her strength, she dragged herself to Ramirez, and she covered her mouth at what she saw.

  His cold, dead eyes stared up into the sky as blood dripped along the side of his mouth. She went to Tolmer and Deanna. They too didn’t make it. Was she the only one?

  At the cockpit, she removed a hunk of metal debris out of the way, which only punched into the snow, and then, she pried open the door. Both of the pilots were still inside, strapped into their chairs. She held up Brian’s head, which lolled to the side still encased in his helmet, and checked his pulse. His co-pilot didn’t make it either.

  She tried to contain her emotions. They all died doing what they loved, she thought, trying to console herself. Still, the tears came. How could she not? They were so young, their full lives ahead of them . . .

  Forcing her emotions deep inside her, she tried to think of what next to do. She had to survive for now. That was the only thing she could do.

  Around her, the imposing mountains and stark terrain surrounded her with ice and snow spreading as far as the eye could see. On the mountain ranges and deeper below in the gorges, it seemed she was the only person in the entire world, and only the howling wind was her companion.

  A chill wind swept down, and snow pricked her face. She won’t surive for long in this cold, she thought grimly as she hugged herself in her parka. Who knows what else was out here . . .

  GRRRRRR

  Hillary gulped, knowing the provenance of that sound. Her eyes wandered off to the side, and on the side of a mountain, a wolf bared its teeth at her. A second wolf and then another and another gathered on the mountain side where they joined together in their growls.

  She took a step back. They must have been attracted by the sound of the crash, she thought.

  Hillary ran. Seeing their quarry spirit away, the pack of wolves barked and bounded after their prey, their paws imprinting themselves on the layers of snow.

  Not knowing what else to do, she continued to run. She had to somehow find a cave, some sort of shelter, she thought as she continued to try to make her escape. The foot-deep snow wasn’t helping. It slowed her down, but she had to make it, she had to.

  Try as she might, the wolves gained on her, their fangs bared.

  Hillary tried to keep running, but there was no denying it, she was getting tired. Her calves started to burn, and her aging bones started to ache. Before, during her Wellesley years, she could run and swim to her heart’s content, but the years had caught up to her. She tried to put up a mental block. It was survival time. Keep going or be killed.

  It was over. One of the wolves bounded close and snapped at her, biting onto her pant leg. Hillary cried out and fell into the snow where the other wolves howled and joined in for the kill.

  Snow burned the skin on her face, but that was the least of her concerns. The wolves bit and tore at
her. Her parka provided a modicum of protection, but their teeth already punctured it.

  Hillary fought back as best she could. A wolf bit into her forearm, and she shook her arm to the side and tossed one of the wolves only to find another wolf, its fanged mouth opened wide, replace it.

  The wolves didn’t let up. They clamped their jaws on seemingly every part of her body, her arms, legs, even her hips. Hillary cried out in pain, frustration, fear—trying to fend them off, trying anything to rid herself of her attackers. She had no illusions what they wanted to do. They wanted to kill her and tear her limb from limb.

  Inexplicably, the wolves suddenly stopped. They poked up their heads as if they sensed something in the offing.

  For a moment, nothing happened, just her and the wolves, and then, the ground rumbled. Soft at first, the ground shook with increasing ferocity causing the wolves to whimper and bound away to somewhere downhill.

  Hillary rose up into a sitting position as the ground around her continued to shake. What’s going on? she thought, looking around in confusion.

  She found her answer.

  Farther up in the mountain, a wall of snow came rushing down at her, stampeding over anything in its path.

  Hillary’s heart stopped as she saw what was coming down towards her. An avalanche.

  Instinctively, she began to pick herself up. Maybe once more, escape with her life, political or otherwise. She’d done it before . . .

  Her luck had run out. The avalanche engulfed her just as soon as she stood up, forcing her forward as the snow pushed her down and down.

  The wolves didn’t have much luck either. It caught up to the creatures, and all of them, Hillary and wolf alike, went down the side of the mountain.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Gunfire rang out in the helicopter garage of #2’s terrorist Siachen Glacier Base. Huma and the rest of the DSS agents had stormed into the helicopter garage from the helipad outside, and now, they were pinned down. The jihadists, in keffiyehs and heavy coats, shot down their Kalashnikovs from atop a catwalk platform, peeking out from crates they used as cover. #2 himself shot at the agents with his gun as he held Alessandra’s hand and used his body as a shield to keep her away from danger.

  Huma and her fellow DSS agents hid as best they could behind the Soviet era Mi-24 and Mi-26 helicopters. Already, casualties mounted on both sides. The terrorist dead fell down from the catwalk platform while their own DSS agents injured or dead lay on the floor.

  A gunshot clipped the nose of the Mi-26 helicopter, narrowly missing Huma. Using the body of the helicopter, she crouched back into cover and then changed the clip of her standard issue SIG Sauer hand pistol. Mission’s already not going according to plan, she thought with gritted teeth. If only Mrs. Clinton was here.

  “Get to the plane!” Rosen said, crouching beside her. Rapid Kalashnikov fire winged past them, strafing their protective helicopter.

  “After this!” Huma shouted back. Once more, she swung her herself into the gunfight and shot her Sig Sauer. #2, her intended target hid behind a crate. Noticing it was Huma who fired at him, he motioned to his men to keep firing.

  More shots rang out, forcing Huma once more to take cover. By a doorway, a jihadist motioned to #2 and Alessandra, and they took their chance. Holding each other’s hands, they made their way to the doorway keen to avoid any bullets heading their way.

  Huma gritted her teeth once more. We can’t let them escape, she thought. She swung herself again, this time to the open cargo hold of the Russian helicopter and fired her gun.

  She missed. The bullets bounced against the railing, causing sparks to fly, all the while #2 and Alessandra made good their escape, the metal door swinging behind them.

  “Go!” Rosen said beside them. “We’ll cover you!” Once more, he swung to the side and fired his gun.

  Huma breathed in and held her pistol close to her. Here goes nothing.

  With a running start, she rushed towards the far door, firing blindly at the catwalk platform above. The jihadists took cover from the combined barrage but poked their Kalashnikovs above the crates and returned fire.

  Bullets strafed the floor as Huma ran, but lunging forward, she found safety behind a set of palletized crates. She rolled to a kneeling position and caught her breath.

  There was a lot more to do, she knew. Opening the metal door, she made her way into a concrete-lined corridor. Her guard up, she raised her gun and went down the passageway.

  “The hangar is further in,” Philippe said in her earpiece.

  “Copy that,” Huma said, holding a finger into her earpiece. “What about #2 and Alessandra?”

  “Uh, your top priority is neutralizing the plane, that’s our orders,” he said back.

  She took in the message. Hopefully, her fellow DSS agents could catch the terrorist couple. Then, gun at the ready, she pressed on, prepared to fight her way through the base if necessary to her destination. Huma kept a keen eye for any jihadists inside the glacier base, but to her surprise, the base was eerily empty. She thought that perhaps they were undermanned and that they'd headed to the helicopter garage until turning the corner, she found someone.

  Out of a doorway that led into a room carved into the mountain, a jihadist laid on the concrete ground. He struggled to live as a wound reddened his parka and blood dripped from his mouth. Huma crept close, gun in hand, unsure of whether this was a trap, but as she got closer and closer, she knew he didn’t have long to live. He was young too, she thought. Couldn’t be far from his late teens.

  The young jihadi coughed out his own blood, but it sounded as though he was trying to say something. Huma knelt down beside him.

  “D—” the young jihadi choked on his own words. “Dee,” he said finally, and then, the end came. His head fell to the side, his own eyes blank. Huma didn’t think he deserved this, but she closed his eyes for him.

  Did Dee do this? she asked. He turned on them but why? She quickly left the young jihadi and pressed on. Through the corridors she went passing by more bodies on the floor. Their guns were still strapped onto them like someone caught them by surprise.

  She put it out of her mind. Dee or not, she had to focus on her mission. With Philippe, in temporary operations in Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan, helping to guide her, she went through the corridors until a double metal door lay before her. The sign above said “Hangar.” She found what she was looking for.

  She opened one side of the metal door and carefully stepped inside, but the hangar was nothing what she expected.

  It was a wide space with the large steel hangar door clear on the other side. On the floor, several DSS agents and terrorists lay dead, but that wasn’t the only sight that caught her breath. All over the hangar bay, crates could be found as well as . . .

  Chemicals.

  These chemicals, in silver metallic canisters, joined the crates, some on top while others sitting on the ground. Numbers and labels were plastered onto the canisters as though detailing their contents, and ominously, a skull and crossbones symbol accompanied the labels, indicating its toxic nature. And then there was the captured C-17.

  It had been modified. The cargo plane still resembled itself, but in the middle, metallic spires rose up. They looked to have been grafted onto the plane both atop and on its sides.

  Huma knew exactly what that was.

  It was the HAARP array, she thought grimly. They had somehow grafted the antennas and spires onto the plane itself. She gulped, realizing then and there what they planned to do with such a weapon. It had to be destroyed.

  She stepped forward, but a shot rang out from inside the cargo hold itself, forcing her to take cover behind a set of crates.

  Inside the cargo hold of the HAARP plane, Dee Romney peeked out, his Grach pistol in hand. “Sorry to see you again, Huma,” he shouted. “It’s unfortunate we keep meeting this way.”

  •••

  From out of the snow, Hillary’s hand shot out into the air. The snow moved further,
and rising out, she rose into a sitting position on what could have been her icy tomb. At the base of the mountain range, the avalanche had finally made its stop. She somehow survived, she thought groggily. Ice and snow clung to every part of her body, and her skin turned red from the cold. She was still alive.

  She shifted in the snow trying to pick herself up. Instead, she gasped as a wolf’s head slumped down beside her, its fangs bared. But only momentarily. The wolf was dead, its tongue hanging out on the side of its mouth. Hillary pushed the wolf’s head away from her and then rubbed her temples.

  The other wolves had apparently met the same end. Parts of their fur, legs, or heads stuck out from the snow, all dead, all lifeless.

  Groggily, Hillary managed to pick herself up. A sharp pain struck her side, and though wincing, she willed herself through it.

  She knew she was lucky to be alive. The last she remembered, the avalanche barreled down the mountain, her along with it. Then, she blacked out, and at last, she found herself here.

  As the winds howled fiercely, the solitary peaks of the Himalayas surrounded her on all sides. Her travails weren’t over, not by a long shot. She had to think of something fast. In this inclement weather, she wouldn’t survive for long.

  She was alone, though, the stark whiteness all around. What was she going to do . . .

  An idea struck her. The sleeve buttons, she thought deliriously. Jake mentioned this new class of pantsuit included GPS tracker sleeve buttons.

  Eagerly, she pulled down the sleeve of her parka and checked on her pantsuit cuffs. Her encroaching smile vanished, however, when she pressed on her cuff buttons and nothing happened. She pressed on them again, but she already knew these were ordinary cuff buttons. She closed her eyes. This wasn’t her battle pantsuit, she realized. It was still back in the State Department. She wore the old model pantsuit for this mission. Now what was she going to do?

  A gust of wind blew down from the mountain, bringing with it a snow drift, and Hillary had to shield herself with her arms, though she did manage to catch a glimpse of the mountain she had just come from.